


It Was the Best of Times; It Was the Worst of Times

by dragonQuill907



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonQuill907/pseuds/dragonQuill907
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are probably aware of the AU in which everyone has a clock on their forearm/wrist that counts down to the moment they meet their soulmate. This is kind of like that, except not at all.<br/>Johnlock</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was the Best of Times; It Was the Worst of Times

**Author's Note:**

> This is exactly what I wrote in a tumblr post that worked better as a super short fanfic

Everyone has two clocks on their arms: one on the left and one on the  
right. One of them counts down to the best thing that will ever happen  
to you, and the other to the worst. You don’t know which arm is which  
clock, but after time runs out, and whatever happens happens, you  
know.  
  
Sherlock and John both have two clocks on their arms, but they count  
down to the exact same moment, never even a second apart. John finds  
it strange that the best thing that will ever happen to him is also  
the best. He assumes it’s broken and dismisses it quickly. Sherlock,  
however, isn’t surprised. He assumes that the worst thing he could do  
is overdose, but that’d be the best thing he could ask for. He’d  
rather be dead than an addict, anyway.  
  
John is shocked when, after he’s shot in Afghanistan, both of his  
clocks are still ticking. He’d thought for sure moment the bullet his  
his shoulder was the worst of his life. Sherlock is somewhat  
disappointed when he wakes up in hospital with both of his clocks  
still going. He’d really hoped that the last hit would be his last.  
  
When John and Sherlock meet in Bart’s, their clocks hit zero.  
  
They realize soon that of course they’re the best thing to happen to  
the other. John was contemplating suicide not even a week ago,  
invalided home from the army and everything he’d known for upwards of  
six years. Meeting Sherlock had given him a purpose; now he is meant  
to take care of his idiotic, genius flatmate. Sherlock had been  
reliant on drugs for so long that he’d forgotten how to act around  
people. He’d always been cold and distant, but John isn’t fazed at  
all. He takes it all in stride: Sherlock’s tantrums, his sulks, his  
experiments, his disregard for emotion. John helps make Sherlock more  
human. They are right for each other.  
  
John Watson is staring up at his flatmate, who is balanced  
precariously on the edge of Bart’s Hospital roof. John knows, as soon  
as Sherlock steps off the roof, that his clock hadn’t been broken  
after all. There’s red on the pavement, and John’s heart is heavy. He  
is alone now, left with only the memory of the man he lived with,  
became friends with, shared his life with for years. Sherlock Holmes  
is easily the worst thing to ever happen to John Watson, ever.

At first Sherlock thinks John is his worst thing only because he can start to feel   
now that they’ve met. His emotions are running wild, and he can’t control them   
as well as he used to, and it is all John Watson’s fault. Sherlock blames the   
heartbreak and utter despair he feels when he sees John propose to Mary   
on the emotions John’s already taken out of him. Of course,   
this is how he always knew it would end: with a wedding. The detective had   
hoped it would be his and John’s, but some part of him knew it could never be.   
He gets back to the flat (because it doesn’t feel like _home_ now that   
John’s no longer there) and shoots up, all the while thinking about  
his clocks and their accuracy. They weren’t broken. John Watson was the   
worst thing that could’ve happened to Sherlock Holmes.

They don’t tell the other, but   
they both know they would do it  
again and again and again   
if they had the choice.


End file.
